


Phichit's Guide to Helping Yuuri Part I: Drunken Parkour

by suninwinter37



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, Gen, Humor, Underage Drinking, drunk parkour, even though Phichit rounds up to 21, victor nikiforov reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27521020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suninwinter37/pseuds/suninwinter37
Summary: Ask and ye shall receive. The drunken Yuuri parkour reference inAt a Time Like Thisgot so many comments, that I had to.Actual Best Roommate Phichit Chalunont takes it upon himself to get Yuuri drunk, for relaxation and entertainment purposes. Their hockey player neighbor gets locked out of his apartment. Hijinks and parkour ensue.“Yuuri, do the thing!” Phichit yelled.Yuuri startled. “Tap dance like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain?”“No, the other thing!”“How is a backflip going to get Kovie into his apartment?”“No, Yuuri. The other, other thing!”Yuuri’s big, dark eyes blinked. Then they lit up. “Parkour!”
Relationships: Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 13
Kudos: 153





	Phichit's Guide to Helping Yuuri Part I: Drunken Parkour

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [At a Time Like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205132) by [suninwinter37](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suninwinter37/pseuds/suninwinter37). 



> Phichit's Hamster Index:
> 
> Arthur – The MC from The King and the Skater  
> Carey Grant – Handsome, black and white  
> Vulpix – Pretty, elegant, fawn-colored

The game was easy. It was a drinking game after all. It had to be easy so drunk people could play it. And Yuuri really needed to get drunk. No, scratch that. He _deserved_ it. And so did Phichit. Because one of Phichit’s favorite things in the world was drunk Yuuri. And sometimes, the quickest way to drunk Yuuri was through competitive Yuuri. 

They sat across from each other on the floor, an elaborate hamster enrichment environment on the coffee table between them. Yuuri, who had been adamant about not wanting hamsters in their shared apartment had, of course, fallen in love with them and traded class notes with an engineering student for the design and construction of the elaborate cage.

“When Arthur goes into the blue tunnel, you drink,” Phichit said. “When Carey Grant goes into the white tunnel, I drink. When either one goes into a tunnel but Vulpix pushes them out, we both drink. “

“Part way out or all the way out?”

“All the way out. Not a whisker left inside. When Vulpix goes into the wheel, you drink. When Carey Grant goes into the wheel, I drink. When Arthur goes into the wheel, we both drink. If Arthur and Vulpix are in the wheel at the same time, you remove an item of clothing. If Carey Grant and Vulpix are in the wheel at the same time, I add a layer of makeup. If Arthur and Carey Grant are in the wheel at the same time, we both drink.”

“Why do I have to remove clothing but you get to add makeup?”

“Because my face can take a lot of makeup. Besides, you’re wearing six shirts right now.”

Yuuri tugged at the hems of shirts three and four. He was also wearing a winter hat even though it was a warm spring day and a glove on his non-drinking hand. Bless his heart, he was learning how Phichit played. He was also three glasses of wine into the afternoon, and Phichit had not-so-secretly replaced the empty wine bottle with a bottle of pink vodka that wasn’t only pretty, it tasted like petrol!

“Okay, are you ready?”

Yuuri took a bracing sip of vodka, then wheezed out an affirmative sound before thunking his glass down on the table. Arthur and Carey Grant bolted, each running into a tunnel. They both drank. Vulpix shoved Arthur out of the blue tunnel, Arthur burrowed back in, and Carey Grant hit the wheel. They both drank, then Yuuri drank once more.

“I think that was one too many.”

“Was it?” Yuuri got on his knees for a better view. He surveyed the enclosure, then nodded. His cheeks were getting a little flushed. Phichit snapped a pic. “Focus, Phichit! The game is afoot!”

Vulpix joined Carey Grant in the wheel. Phichit drew a wing on his right eyelid. Arthur threw Carey Grant out and Yuuri took off a shirt. The hamsters began running, then Arthur flew out and fled into the white tunnel. Yuuri drank. Phichit grinned and took another picture. The vodka bottle was a quarter empty. This was going great. Yuuri was going to be so thankful by the end of the night. Not in the morning, so much.

Someone knocked on the door and they both froze. All the hamsters made for the tunnels. Without looking away from the door, Yuuri tossed back another drink.

“Go answer it,” Phichit hissed.

“Why don’t you answer it?” Yuuri whispered back.

“Because I’m underage. What if it’s the cops?”

“What happened to rounding up to the nearest twenty-one?”

“That only works in this apartment. It’s not an actual legal defense.”

“Why would there be cops?” Yuuri stiffened, his eyes going wide. “What if it’s immigration? What if I’m about to be deported?”

Yuuri ran from the room, probably to pack his Victor Nikiforov posters. Yuuri could be naked and on fire, and his priority would be to save those damn posters. Like, sure that guy was the best skater the world had ever seen and was proportioned like a suave demi-god with imagination-firing flexibility, but honestly, they were just posters. It wasn’t like the actual man was in Yuuri’s room.

Sighing, and hiding the bottle under the kitchen sink, Phichit answered the door. Then brightened. It was the hot, blond, almost unbearably nice hockey player, who Phichit tenderly referred to as their sitcom neighbor, because every time he entered the scene, things got so much more entertaining! Yuuri had met him at the rink before finding out they lived in the same building. Phichit had expected him to fall in love, since Kovie was exactly Yuuri’s type – big, blond, a skater, and Russian. But no, Yuuri’s type also required the big, blond Russian skater to have a name that rhymed with Nictor Vitivifov. So discriminating.

“Kovie!”

“Hi, Phichit.”

“Yuuri, you’re safe It’s just Kovie.”

Yuuri leaned out of his room with a suspicious glare, as if he thought Phichit had turned on him. Oh, he of little faith. Smiling sheepishly, Yuuri came into the room, waving his greeting.

That was a sober Yuuri thing, and it would absolutely not do.

“You want a drink, Kovie? We’re playing a game.” Phichit gestured at the hamsters and the Russian shook his head, confused.

“No thank you? Actually, I’m a hurry. I was wondering if you have any tools. I broke the doorknob to my apartment and can’t get in.”

“I can call the superintendent for you,” Phichit offered.

“I already left three messages.”

Yuuri slunk into his room and came back with the world’s tiniest screwdriver. “I have this. For my glasses. Will it help?” He adjusted his glasses, his expression somber if not entirely sober.

Kovie smiled gently. “Thank you, it’s very cute, but I think I need something a little larger.”

“That’s what she said,” Phichit breathed without moving his lips.

“I need to be at the airport in thirty minutes. We’re leaving for an away game. If I miss my flight, they’ll kick me off the team. I haven’t even finished packing.”

Yuuri gasped, the idea of it going straight to the anxious little heart of him.

“Fire,” Phichit suggested, trying to distract him. “Burn your way in.”

“Huh.” Kovie considered it, then shook his head. “I probably shouldn’t. I still have to live here after the trip.”

“No spare key?”

“No. I left my kitchen window open, but I can’t get to it.”

Yuuri began to chew his lip. His hands clutched each other. This was the opposite of relaxed Yuuri. And Phichit was going to fix it.

“Yuuri, do the thing!” Phichit yelled.

Yuuri startled. “Tap dance like Gene Kelly in _Singing in the Rain_?”

“No, the other thing!”

“How is a backflip going to get Kovie into his apartment?”

“No, Yuuri. The other, other thing!”

Yuuri’s big, dark eyes blinked. Then they lit up. “Parkour!”

“What’s parkour?” Kovie asked as Yuuri sprinted past the hamsters into the kitchen. He shoved the coffee maker to the side, climbed onto the counter and opened the window.

“It used to be a technique to get through military obstacle courses quickly.”

Yuuri pulled the screen out of the window. It clattered onto the floor as he wriggled half his body outside.

“Yuuri adapted it to pet dogs.”

The rest of his body slid out and Kovie’s hand slapped across his mouth.

“ _Bozhe moy_. Did he just fall out the window?”

“No. There’s a dog on the floor above us. Its owner is deaf, and sometimes he doesn’t hear when the dog whines to be let in from the balcony.”

“What does that have to do with Yuuri falling out the window?”

“He didn’t fall down. He fell _up_. Yuuri climbs up and lets him in. Come on, let’s watch.”

Phichit slammed through his apartment door, Kovie right behind him as they ran down the stairs, then out and around the building.

Yuuri was perched on the metal railing of the balcony about theirs, one hand gripping it while he leaned down to pet a gnarly terrier mix with an underbite visible from the ground.

“See?”

Phichit was so proud of his roommate. He hiccupped. His tolerance was nowhere near Yuuri’s. Maybe his drunk Yuuri plan was more of a drunk Phichit plan? Had he foiled himself? He was such a genius!

“That dog has chased me twice,” Kovie said. “One time it came within a centimeter of biting my…my…”

Phichit turned his head, hoping he was about to like where this was going. “Your what, Kovie?”

The Russian blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I only know the bad words for it.”

“It’s okay. I’m rounded-up to twenty-one today. Say what you’re going to say.”

“It almost bit my enormous cock.”

“WHY DID YOU DESCRIBE THE SIZE?”

“That’s how I learned that word.”

“I speak four languages, and in none of them is that how someone learns _that word_.” Phichit tilted his head back and yelled at Yuuri. “Kovie says he has an enormous penis.”

In hindsight, in retrospect, it would have been better to save that information for later. Like when Yuuri wasn’t hanging from a slick pipe with one hand, his body nearly horizontal as he levered himself upward over forty feet in the air.

His foot swung free from whatever niche he’d crammed it into, and he hung by a single hand.

“Oh no!” Phichit wailed, covering his face as actual terror clutched him, “we’ve killed my best friend and Japan’s Ace!”  
“ _Nyet_ ,” Kovie declared, with a iron determination only a strong Russian male in the prime of his life could muster, “if he falls, I will catch him!”

“Then I’ll have killed Japan’s Ace and one of the best five butts on the Detroit Red Wings!”

“We won’t die…wait, what? I have one of the best butts?”

“Yes, but Yuuri-“

“Who are the others? Mine’s better than Heikinnen’s, right?” Kovie clenched a fist. “That flat-assed Finn.”

Phichit grabbed hold of his shirt and shook him back and forth. “Focus, sitcom man! Don’t let my best friend die!”

They both looked up.

Yuuri was gone.

Phichit was going to faint. He was going to be arrested for skaterslaughter. He was going to be deported, just like his beautiful, dearly departed roommate and BFF had, only today, worried about.

Yuuri stuck his head out of a window much, MUCH higher up than theirs, and slightly to the right. He yelled something, or did the Katsuki Yuuri version of yelling, which was merely speaking with a regular person’s inside voice.

“SPEAK UP,” Phichit encouraged, a little shrilly. Beside him, Kovie leapt in the air like a cat.

“I broke your mud,” Yuuri said.

“YOU WHAT?” Kovie bellowed back, sounding like a Russian foghorn. Curtains pulled aside on three windows.

“I broke your mud.”

“Yuuri,” Kovie said plaintively, “I don’t own any mud.”

“It’s orange, with stripes?” Yuuri make swiping motions with his finger.

Phichit and Kovie looked at each other. Phichit raised his hands in confusion. “Do you own a tabby-striped mud?”

“Oh.” Kovie nodded, as if this all was reasonable. “He broke my _mug_. It has a tiger on it.”

He took a deep breath, framed his mouth with his hands, and shouted back, “THAT’S OKAY, YUURI. AN EX-GIRLFRIEND GAVE IT TO ME. SHE BROKE UP WITH ME RIGHT BEFORE I MOVED TO AMERICA, SO THE MUG WAS ALREADY PACKED. THAT’S THE ONLY REASON I STILL HAVE IT. I DON’T EVEN LIKE IT. SHE WAS OKAY, OF COURSE BUT-”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” an older woman on the second floor admonished sternly. “You boys had better go inside like regular people and stop yelling at the side of this entire building. Keep your dumb ass business to your damn selves.”


End file.
